Karios
by Avalon D
Summary: Interconnecting drabbles, not necessarily chronological, on Inquisitor Veva Adaar and her relationship with the Iron Bull.


The Inquisitor's chambers are eerily quiet, when the Iron Bull sets foot in them. She isn't there, of course, probably out kicking demon ass without him in Emprise du Lion. However, he isn't bothered by that, after all he _had_ complained how miserable the ice cold winds were.

Not bothered _at all_.

Which is why, after of week of her absence, he was in her chambers waiting for her. He knew how frustratingly tired she'd be, and he knew just how to make her relax. And helping her relax, made him relax. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement they had going.

Which wasn't to say the two weren't close. Veva had shown genuine interest in what knowledge he offered, a surprising thing of a tal-vashoth - or so he first thought. She was so strangely human with her compassion.

 _"So, you've never made love?"_ She has asked him, earnestly. As if she had? A tal-vashoth raised on the outskirts of the Free Marches, and a mercenary? It seemed a foolish question.

She didn't seem to mind that what they did wasn't considered making love exactly, - they weren't in love. It wasn't fucking either, he had decided. It was just… comfort.

Bull shook his head of his wandering thoughts, and looked around the sunlit room. Loose pieces of parchment were scattered on Veva's desk, held down by various objects so they wouldn't blow away. Curious of their contents, he walked cautiously to the desk and glanced down at the papers.

They were piled haphazardly, no order to them that he could discern anyway. All of them were sketches down with charcoal. Some were of the breach and the fade, a little morbid for Bull's tastes but he was apt to hate anything to do with demons at this point. Some were of their companions, simple portraits that she had done either from memory or without them knowing. And the rest… The rest were of him.

One of him training with Krem.

One of him and the chargers sitting in the tavern.

One of him sleeping on her bed.

One of him fighting the high dragon they killed in Crestwood.

One of him sprawled and tangled in her sheets after sex.

 _Damn,_ he thought, _She's good._

The faint sounds of a group of people talking drew Bull's attention away from the drawings. He turned around and walked towards the stairs.

"Inquisitor, we need to discuss the current situation in the Western Approach." Cullen's stern voice was the first Bull was able to discern from the crowd.

It sounded as though Veva had been followed into the hallway that led to her quarters. It wasn't a common occurrence, but Bull felt a little annoyed for Veva's sake. He leaned on the railing and waited patiently for Veva to appear, frowning a bit as he listened to the chatter of whomever else followed Veva into the hallway that led to her room.

"And the dignitaries from Antiva have arrived; they request an audience with you as soon as you are able," came Josephine's request.

"And I will speak with them soon, Ambassador," was Veva's calm reply. " _After_ I have a few hours rest."

"Of course, Inquisitor," Josephine said.

"But your grace-" A new voice, probably a cleric, spoke out.

"I am of no use to you when I'm dead on my feet, Revered Mother."

"Y-yes, of course. Rest well, Inquisitor."

There was a shuffle of feet, followed by the heavy boom of the door closing and a sigh. Veva dragged her feet up the stairs, not bothering to look up. Bull smirked, then cleared his throat as she reached the top of the stairs.

Veva spun towards the noise and reached for her daggers, before seeing the source of the noise. "Bull," she sighed, with a tired smile. Her posture immediately relaxed, and Bull felt satisfaction that she felt so at ease around him.

"Tough week?" He asked as he walked over to her. He brought his arms around her, palming her ass gently to bring their hips together.

"Mhmm," she hummed. Her own hands made their way up his back, her nails lightly scratching his bare skin as he nuzzled his neck. Bull was decidedly ignoring how intimate the gesture was, despite how pleasant it felt.

"So…" Bull drawled into her ear, nipping it softly. "You're an artist."

"Oh! I, um… dabble, yes," Veva replied, flustered. She attempted to back out of the embrace, but Bull tightened his arms to keep her close. She tilted her head and gave him a stern look.

"No need to be embarrassed, Boss. Some of those sketches are pretty hot," he said with a grin.

Veva fought the upturn of her lips for a moment, then smirked. "I think you just like admiring yourself," she teased.

Bull threw his head back and laughed. "I like seeing how much you admire me. Or, are you just after my body?"

"Maybe I just want to say I rode the Bull," Veva quipped, before ducking her head down to place an open mouthed kiss on his chest.

"Or maybe I just _really_ like you," she admitted against his skin.

Bull felt a flutter of emotion rise up in his gut at her admission. In lieu of replying, he lowered his hands to the back of her thighs, lifted her against him, and began to walk towards her bed.

Actions speak louder than words, he had been told.


End file.
